


Diplomatic Solutions

by TheMalhamBird



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, bridge four-assorted members of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalhamBird/pseuds/TheMalhamBird
Summary: The Storm Form experiment was put on hold until the last ditch attempt at negotiations failed. The Eshonai who goes to meet the Blackthorn on the Shattered Plains is the Eshonai who truly wants peace. And also some answers about the surgebinder who stabbed her in the leg. Which is awkward, given that until she raised the subject, House Kholin had no idea that there was a Radiant under their roof...





	1. Peace Talks Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I think it was the TOR WoR re-read that raised the issue of how not-smart it was for Eshonai to be experimenting with a new form before the peace talks. I /think/.   
>  Of course, writing this made me realise just how early in the story those peace talks are. I mean, Amaram hasn't been declared a Radiant by Dalinar (which I class as his stupidest move in that book, who puts someone who's shady past they're investigating in a position like that, seriously?). Adolin hasn't issued his accidental four-on-one challenge, Kaladin hasn't been thrown in to prison and convinced that killing Elhokar is a good idea. So much could have gone differently if Eshonai had only held off the voidbringing...of course, there's still Venli to contend with. Venli's a problem. And Renarin's countdown is at thirty-one days

_ Conversation that probably should have happened at some point: _

**_Parshendi Council Member:_ ** _…Are we sure it’s a good idea to try a random and potentially                                                                                                                      unpredictable new form right before we meet with the Alethi to get them to stop trying to kill us is a good idea?_

**_Eshoni:_ ** _You’re right, let's hold on the experiments until after the talks with the Blackthorn just in case this happens to be the form that brings back our gods and ushers in the end of the world_

** Chapter I :Peace Talks, Part I **

**_Thirty-One Days until the Everstorm_ **

Eshonai realised she had attuned to the rhythm of worry and made herself stop _._ Her companions were nervous enough without her own fears to compound it. This peace talk was her idea, if _she_ started acting like she wasn’t sure it would work…

           She switched to resolve. The talks might come to nothing, but at least she would have tried, and she would try her hardest.  

           “Why do you suppose their surgebinder doesn’t fight in battles?” Thude asked abruptly as they approached the plateau. Kholin’s forces were arrayed on the far side of the plateau, the Highprince clearly marked out by his unadorned Shardplate. It was odd, she thought to herself, that the brother of a King should leave his armour plain rather than decorate it in order to more adequately display his rank and importance. Or perhaps the grey _did_ display his rank: maybe people in line to the throne had to keep their armour plain to remind everyone that _they_ weren’t the King in the family, though Kholin’s son had his plate decorated, so maybe it was just younger brothers of Kings-

_Focus_ , she chided. If this worked, she could be an explorer again, but until then she had to focus. There were ten soldiers arrayed behind him, dressed in the darker blue of Kholin’s honour guard.

          “Eshonai?” Thude prompted. “The surgebinder…”

          “I don’t know,” Eshonai said. They’d had this conversation many times, but kept returning to it. It was important. She felt a twinge in her leg where the man had stabbed her, but the fact that she could still walk meant it hadn’t been a Shardblade. “Perhaps he is still training?” she suggested. “He came only because Kholin’s army was in such danger.” According to their spies, the Alethi were splintering in to factions. That, more than anything, gave Eshonai hope for the peace talks: if the Alethi were about to start fighting each other, they wouldn’t want to be fighting the Parshendi as well.

           “We should ask.”

            “Perhaps. If everything goes well. Honestly, all we need to do is get them to agree to stop attacking us.”

            Thude snorted as they approached the chasm and they picked up speed, preparing to jump. “Oh, get the Alethi to stop attacking. That’s _all._ They don’t accept surrenders on the battlefield, why should this be any different?”

              _Because they’ve agreed to talk._

The soldiers all landed safely on the plateau. Eshonai strengthened resolve, and next to her, Thude attuned to it as well, and then one by one, her soldiers did the same. Eshonai smiled, grateful for the gesture of support.  The shared rhythm bolstered her confidence as she started across the plateau. The Blackthorn also came forward, nudging that monstrous horse of his. There was a woman with him as well, carrying writing utensils- a scribe, Eshonai realised. _They’ll want to make a record and only their women can write._  And only their men could fight. The Alethi were peculiar about not letting their women wield weapons, so if Kholin had a woman with him he probably didn’t intend to fight. It was an encouraging sign.

        Kholin dismounted. The horse whinnied, and shook itself as if getting rid of an unwanted parasite. It seemed to be in a bad mood today; normally the creature fought to get back to Kholin whenever they were separated. Perhaps it was disappointed it wasn’t getting to charge at the ranks of Parshendi it could see. Eshonai took a deep breath, steadying herself as Kholin and the woman approached, then halted a few feet away from her. The woman set up her writing equipment and began to make notes.

     “I am Eshonai,” she said. The Blackthorn made no move to remove his helm, so she didn’t either. “Do you remember me?” she asked.

       There was a faint pause before Kholin replied with a firm “No,” and Eshonai shoved down her disappointment.

        “I was the first to meet your people,” She told him.

         “And now you are the first to seek peace,” Kholin said. “We are here to discuss the terms of your surrender.”

  _Not to reminisce about the old days,_ Eshonai thought, reading between the lines. She nodded once. “Yes.”

         “Though I must wonder,” Kholin said, voice cold, “Why, the same night your messenger came to us to set up the peace talks, your Assassin in White made an attempt my –  nephew’s life.” Beside him, the scribe shifted, poised to write down her reply.

         Eshonai went cold. Of all the bad timing…she attuned to the rhythm of sincerity and hoped that the human would pick up on the tone even if he didn’t understand the rhythm. Gavilar’s daughter had made attempts to understand rhythms meanings during the negotiations, and had managed to guess a few correctly. “The Assassin is no longer in our employ,” she said. “We dismissed his services the night we fled Kholinar, we did not see a further need for him. What became to him after, we do not know.”

         Kholin remained silent, but turned to the scribe slightly, as if waiting for something. She spoke, too quick and quiet for Eshonai to make out, and then Kholin turned back. “Very well. I will accept that explanation- “there was an unspoken ‘for now’ in there- “-but I _will_ know the reason you killed my brother, Parshendi.”

           _Storms_ but it was strange calling uncle Gavilar ‘brother’. Adolin flexed his right hand nervously. The meeting seemed to be going well- it was probably too early to say- but if this Eshonai was telling the truth, and the Parshendi hadn’t sent the Assassin, then who had?

         “Your brother,” Eshonai said, and Adolin refocused on her. “King Gavilar. That…is an explanation left to the end, I think.” She seemed nervous, though that was hardly surprising. They were discussing the murder of a King.

         “You expect us to be able to negotiate peace without knowing what caused the war in the first place?” he demanded.

          “It is difficult to explain without also explaining the past of my people, our histories. It would require time.”

           _And you would prefer a more solid guarantee of peace before you explain something that might inflame tempers and cost heads. Still, if they murdered Gavilar over something in their culture, perhaps we did insult them somehow after all._ Murdering the King seemed a bit of an overreaction to a slight the Alethi didn’t even realise they had committed, especially given that it was the first time two people had had any contact, but Adolin supposed that at least there seemed to _be_ a reason for his Uncle’s death. They had had no guarantee of that before today. “Should I insist for the explanation now?” he asked Inadara quietly. Inadara shook her head as the spanreed wrote out a string of letters.

         “Move on. They have offered to explain and the explanation will be needed before we can formally agree to peace, and may change some of the terms, but for now it is enough that we’re talking.”

          “Very well,” Adolin said, both to Inadara and to Eshonai. “You will explain before any agreement we reach hear today is made formal, and the Alethi reserve the right to alter the terms if your explanation is not satisfactory.”

           “You will believe we had cause for alarm or you will not. If you don’t, then understand that my people believed we had cause to be alarmed and were willing to fight to the last pair if we had to.”

Curious. Something Gavilar did scared them- what was it? Adolin itched to know more, but he shoved the feeling aside and focused on the other interesting thing the Parshendi had said.

          “You _were_ willing to fight to the last pair,” he said. “Not now?”

          “Fighting to the bitter end is a lot less appealing when you realise that you are approaching your end,” Eshonai said. “You must know our numbers are dwindling. How long until we can no longer fight off your armies and you begin to advance, to come to our home? If no warriors are left, who will defend our young and our elders?”

            Adolin started. He hadn’t considered the thought of Parshendi children, and he kicked himself. Of course the Parshendi had children, where else would the grown Parshendi come from? “You will want a guarantee that whatever else may happen your children and your elderly will not be harmed,2 he surmised, “That is easy enough to give.” His father wouldn’t condone the killing of the weak and defenceless.

        “Easy enough to give,” Eshonai said. “Will it be easy to enforce? We know the Alethi do not accept surrender if a battle is lost.”

         _What?_!. What was she talking about? Of course the Alethi accepted surrender at the end of a battle- “Your people have never offered surrender!” he spluttered. “We- “

        “That is not so!” Eshonai interrupted fiercely. “The first battle, our soldiers laid down their weapons. Your Highprince slaughtered them all.”

          Adolin’s stomach twisted and he clenched his fists. “Which Highprince?” he asked hoarsely. Though he thought he probably already knew the answer.

           “The one with red plate,” Eshonai said. “Sadeas.”

_Storming, cremling of a man._ Was that why the Parshendi would give no quarter? Because they didn’t believe they would get any from the Alethi? How many human lives had Sadeas cost by ignoring one of the basic rules of any combat- how many Parshendi lives? How much sooner might talk like this one have reached if the Parshendi thought them inclined to mercy? _Although, how much of a mercy it would be to be sold as slaves…_ he doubted any of the bridgemen would think it merciful. _Storm it, that’s not the point, the point is I’m going to murder Sadeas-_

            “That should not have happened,” Adolin said quietly. “It breaks with our codes of battle to ignore a surrender in such a way. But Sadeas and the King were close and his need for vengeance….” He trailed off, unsure as to why he was making excuses for the man. Perhaps it was because, in spite of everything, Sadeas and father had still been friends at the time, and the Parshendi _had_ killed Gavilar when they had been negotiating in good faith. Would his father have done differently? Enraged by grief, if he thought perhaps that it was a ploy… he shoved the uncomfortable thought away.

           “And now?” Eshonai demanded. “Is his need for vengeance any less now?”

           “Perhaps not,” Adolin admitted, “But he _will_ stay in line.” _Especially if I can find a way to get Oathbringer back._

Eshonai nodded sharply. “Very well. What would you require.”

          “An explanation,” Adolin said automatically, then shook his head, trying to remember what else they had discussed. “Er…perhaps reparations of some kind? Access to the gemhearts- to hunt the chasmfiends.” Although he remembered what Shallan had said about Chasmfiends becoming rarer, he really needed to talk to father, or perhaps aunt Navani if she could be persuaded to speak to Shallan… “We’d like to know how many Shardblade you have,” it would be interesting at least, to know how many of the unaccounted-for blades were in Parshendi possession. He thought of something else. “If peace is to last, we’ll probably need to establish some form of lasting relationship,” he said slowly. “I would need to talk with the King, but perhaps if your people are low on resources, our people could help.” It was one of the ways Gavilar had helped unify the ten princedoms, helping to rebuild what he, father, and Sadeas had razed to the ground. And he remembered what his father had said about the warcamps becoming permanent cities, if the Alethi were to stay here then establishing some kind of trade with the Parshendi could help make sure violence didn’t break out.

            “And what of your surgebinder? What do you intend with him?”

 Eshonai spoke carefully, as if the answer to that question was the knife edge their talk was balanced on. Which was unfortunate, since Adolin didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about and a glance at Inadara proved she was just as stumped.

       “My…surgebinder,” he said slowly, letting the unfamiliar word revolve in his mouth. Hopefully if he acted coy, Eshonai would elaborate. At the least, it would give Inadara time to get advice from father and Navani. The surgebinder thing seemed to be important, so it probably wasn’t a good idea to admit he had no idea what she was talking about. Perhaps she meant shardbearer? But no, she had said _he-_

       “The one who rescued your men when you were stranded on the tower,” Eshonai said, voice a low hiss. “We saw what he was when he fought a path from his bridge to you.”

         “Bridgeboy,” Adolin muttered, savage triumph rising in his chest. He knew it. He _knew_ there was something wrong with him-

         “There are some among us who do not think peace is possible whilst your surgebinder is with you.” Eshonai added, and the triumph faded as quickly as it had come as he realised the implications. Whatever it was Bridgeboy could do, it had the Parshendi spooked. And he hadn’t told father. Why? Why hide it?

He glanced at Inadara, who had gestured for his attention. She had been relaying the conversation back to the warcamp, and his father had replied.

_Ask her to return tomorrow, and come back to camp. We can’t go forward until we’ve dealt with this._

 Adolin could practically feel the displeasure radiating from those terse lines. He felt an unexpected twinge of pity for Captain Kaladin, who was no doubt on the receiving end of a very cold look right about now, and turned to address Eshonai.

“The matter of the surgebinder is a delicate one,” he said evasively. “I will need to discuss it full with King Elhokar before we can come to a decision. Setting aside that matter, and the matter of your explanation of our King’s death- are you willing to discuss the possibilities of reparations and a lasting trade in more detail?”

          “I am,” Eshonai said cautiously. “Though it will require the Council- “

           “Then perhaps we should return to our respective camps to consider proposals, and meet again tomorrow to discuss moving forward,” Adolin said. “If we were to meet with larger delegations, we would move forward more quickly,” he added, because he didn’t know how long he could convincingly imitate his father, and if Eshonai had to get permission from a council before she could agree to anything this could take days. Besides, suggesting larger groups make the effort to meet implied trust and commitment. To Adolin anyway.

            Eshonai nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “I will bring the council. And you? Will you bring the Highprinces?”

          Wouldn’t that be fun. The highprinces couldn’t agree amongst themselves, let alone with the Parshendi. Sadeas would probably take the opportunity to try and kill everyone. “I will come with Advisors,” Adolin said, thinking that the Elhokar should probably be there as well but not wanting to commit to such a promise. His cousin’s paranoia would likely convince him it was all a trap to kill him and not want to show. “How many are on your council?”

         “There are five.”

Five. So five, as well as Eshonai- six people. “We will bring a similar number of delegates,” he said, and Eshonai nodded.

              “Soldiers?” she asked. Adolin considered.

     “The number of troops we’ve each had today seems adequate. They will stay back, like today- though if the King attends his honour guard will remain with him.”

     Eshonai nodded again. “That is understood. I would request that an honour guard also be permitted to attend the Council.” The Council didn’t have an honour guard, the couldn’t spare the warriors for such a thing, but it would enable them to have soldiers closer to the humans if the worst should happen. The Blackthorn nodded.

         “I agree,” he said. “We’ll meet at noon.”

          “Noon,” Eshonai echoed. The Blackthorn nodded once more, then held out an arm. Eshonai froze, then remembered: she clasped the arm in the human gesture of agreement and goodwill, feeling a thrill of excitement. It was _working._ They were going to continue the talks, perhaps even establish trade-

           Kholin let go of her arm, and swung back on to his horse. “Until tomorrow,” he said. Eshonai watched him ride away, his scribe at his side, as Thude approached her.

          “Well?” he asked to rhythm of concern, “How did it go?”

          “We will talk again tomorrow,” Eshonai hummed to excitement. “He wishes to open up the discussions to the Council and some of his own advisors. He wants peace, he even believes trade may be possible.”

             “That’s good,”

                “We will have to explain Gavilar’s death.” Eshonai cautioned. “They may not believe us.”

            “But their surgebinder is proof…”

           Eshonai smirked as they walked back towards the others. “I am not sure,” she said slowly, “That they knew they had one.”

“What?” Thude exclaimed. “How can that be?”

         “I’m not sure,” Eshonai admitted. “But the scribe’s face seemed confused, and Kholin repeated the word like it was strange to him.”

       “You might have been reading it wrong,” Thude cautioned. “Perhaps they just use a different word?”

      “But then wouldn’t they have corrected me?” Eshonai argued. “If I called a weapon a dagger, and you didn’t know what ‘dagger’ meant but I was obviously referring to the thing you call a blurg, wouldn’t you tell me that you call it a blurg?”

      “I suppose,” Thude said slowly. “It might explain why the surgebinder only appeared that one time. But if you’re right- they know now. What do you think they’ll do?”

    Eshonai shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow.”

***         

Adolin urged Gallant on, rebuffing the attempts of his honour guard to enquire how it went with a single “Fine.” He thought about asking about Kaladin, dropping the word ‘surgebinder’ and seeing how they reacted, but he decided against it. He’d tried prying in to Bridgeboy’s past via his men before and had his questions sidestepped prettily- whatever else you could say for the man; he knew how to inspire loyalty in his men.

       _If they ever have to choose between us or Captain Kaladin…_

They arrived back at the warcamp. Adolin dismounted Gallant gladly and strode towards is father’s bunker, leaving General Khal’s son to dismiss the troops. Seven of the ten Bridgemen who’d been accompanying him peeled off, leaving him with Skar and Drehy, and the older man whom Adolin thought was called Teft. Adolin could never quite work out the rota Kaladin was working from, it didn’t seem to follow any strict pattern. Men seemed to go where Kaladin felt they were needed on a day to day basis, but Skar and Drehy were consistently sent to guard him on the battlefield and Adolin liked to think he had something of a friendship developing with them. So he slowed his pace a little and said: “The Parshendi claimed to have had nothing to do with the Assassin since my uncle’s murder.”

           Skar looked thoughtful. “I guess that makes sense,” he said. “If they were gonna use him, they might as well have sent him to do all the Highprinces in the moment you got to the Shattered Plains. And assassinating them other lighteyes all over the place, the non Alethi ones, that doesn’t get them anything. Why waste a weapon like that in Azir or Vedenar when you’re fighting the Alethi, it’s not like we’re relying on other kingdoms for supplies and stuff that might be disrupted if the Kings die.”

           “I don’t suppose you’ve any idea how your Captain managed to beat him,” Adolin said casually. “Others had armies against him and lost.”

         “Kal’s Stormblessed,” Drehy said, and he and Skar sniggered, like there was some joke Adolin was missing; Teft cleared his throat and the men fell silent.

           “He’s lucky,” Teft grunted, “and skilled, but when he hit the ground he blacked unconscious. Probably the assassin figured he’d killed him and left, decided to come back when you weren’t waiting for him to do it.”

         “I’ll always be waiting,” Adolin said softly. But that answered one question- Kal’s men knew what he was hiding, or at least that he was hiding something. Well, it wouldn’t stay hidden for very long: Adolin approached his father’s War Room and found the scribes, a handful of lower-ranked officers, and several bridgemen milling about outside, talking quietly amongst themselves. The bridgemen looked agitated. Drehy frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked, as the Azish man- Sigzil- approached and threw a glance at Adolin. “The Highprince is waiting for you, Brightlord,” he said politely, before addressing his comrades: “We’re all staying out hear.” As the crowd parted for Adolin, he heard Sigzil say in a low voice: “The Parshendi saw- “

            Inside the war room, it was deathly quiet. Dalinar leant on the table, palms flat and arms braced, seemingly studying the map; Navani was stood behind him, freehand resting on his back. Elhokar was pacing, muttering to himself.

            Kaladin leant against the hearth, arms folded, expressions sullen as he stared dead ahead. Renarin sat in a chair next to him, playing with the box their mother had made him as he often did when he was nervous. General Khal was on the far side of the room, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he watched Bridgeboy closely.

           “So,” Adolin said, to break the stifling silence. “Surgebinder, huh.” Kaladin looked at him. Adolin looked right back, noticing a slight tremor to Kaladin’s fingers. Storms, was he shaking?

           “When you fought the Parshendi shardbearer on the Tower,” Dalinar said slowly, and Adolin suspected his teeth were clenched. “I thought, for a moment, that you were glowing. I assumed it was the result of a blow to my head. Was I mistaken?”

             Kaladin hesitated, then said, reluctantly, “Yes, sir.”

That was it. No further explanation, no nothing. Dalinar looked up at the Captain, Navani’s calming hand on his back the only thing tempering his fury. The boy had said nothing since the Parshendi’s enquiries about the surgebinder had been relayed and it had been clear who they meant; Dalinar would tolerate no further delay to the explanation. “Don’t yes sir me, explain yourself!” he snapped, and regretted it when the boy flinched as if he’d been struck. Navani squeezed his shoulder, and Dalinar exhaled. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” he said, in an effort to speak more calmly.

              Kaladin’s mouth curved humourlessly. “The begging?” he said tonelessly. “I don’t know where the beginning is, exactly. The Radiants, perhaps.”

              Dalinar’s ears pricked. “The Radiants?”

Kaladin shrugged. “You want to reform them. Well.” he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The heating fabrial in the grate went out abruptly; stormlight rose and streamed towards Kaladin—no. Not towards. Into. When Kaladin opened his eyes again, they were icy, glowing, blue. “I _am_ one.”

         It was beautiful. Like something out of one of Dalinar’s visions, like everything he could have hoped for when he considered what the Radiants’ return might mean. His anger flooded out of him, replaced by awe and amazement, and not a little confusion. “Why not _tell_ me this? You knew what I was about.”   This could have made everything so much _easier_.

              Kaladin exhaled quickly. The stormlight left him in a rush. His eyes went back to normal: dark brown, and angry. “Why should I have trusted you?”

            “Trusted-?” Adolin spluttered, Dalinar glanced to see his oldest son looking furious. “He gave up his _Shardblade_ for you, you ungrateful- “

              Dalinar cut him off with a gesture, and he fell silent. Kaladin’s lips curled. “I saved your army, princeling,” he reminded Adolin. “And I _am_ grateful you kept you kept your promise and freed me and mine,” he continued, nodding towards Dalinar, “But you got an honour guard and two-thousand men to replenish your decimated army with out of that agreement so it wasn’t entirely altruistic and the last time I trusted a lighteyes he made me watch as my friends were slaughtered before he had his storm warden burn a pair of glyphs on to my forehead, and he called it _mercy_.”

           “What?” Elhokar piped up, “What are you talking about?” Dalinar sighed, He had forgotten the King’s presence, and he had been trying to forget about Amaram, though he had a plan- of sorts- in place-

               “I’m looking in to it,” he said wearily, and Kaladin’s expression showed precisely what he thought of _that_. Navani squeezed his shoulder again.

                “What can you do, exactly?” she asked, changing the subject. “There were ten orders of Radiants- “

               “Windrunner, brightness,” Kaladin answered the unspoken question. “And I can do…what the Assassin in White can, only Syl says he’s not- “he broke off abruptly, as if he’d said something he couldn’t. It was Renarin who asked ‘Syl?’ in an odd tone that Dalinar couldn’t quite place.

                 Kaladin sighed. “Syl is…Syl…”

“Syl is me.” A feminine voice piped up, as a spren materialised on Kaladin’s shoulder. She looked like a windspren, taking the form of a young woman. Kaladin looked to her, expression softening immeasurably, though there was a crease between his eyes that said he was still worried. “Hello,” the spren said cheerfully. “I apologize for my human; he has _issues- “_

_“_ Syl- “

“-but since you know now you may as well know everything: Radiants- surgebinders- have a symbiotic relationship with spren. They swear oaths and if they mean them, we grant them their abilities.”

            “What about shardblades?” Khal spoke up from the corner. “How did the Radiants get them, how are they made?”

            Syl cocked her head. “I don’t remember,” she said, “but I think it’s a _secret.”_

         “Why are the Parshendi so worried?” Dalinar asked. Curious as he was about Shardblades- and a great deal else- they were meeting with the Parshendi again tomorrow, and it was their request for information that had started all this.

          “Does it matter?” Elhokar muttered. “If you can do what the Assassin does, you could kill them all…”

          “No, I can’t, and even if I could I wouldn’t,” Kaladin snapped.

         “Now hang on son-.”

         “You can’t-.”                 

          “That’s what you were afraid of.” Navani cut across Khal’s and Adolin’s protests about the way Kaladin had just spoken to her son, a look of understanding on her face. “You didn’t tell Brightlord Dalinar about what you could do because you don’t want to be used as a weapon.”

         “If you can do what the assassin did, I don’t see how you think you can be forced in to doing anything you don’t want,” Adolin objected. Kaladin scoffed.

         “Really?” he asked. “Round my men up, threaten to execute them if I don’t do exactly as you say and time how long it takes me to do as I’m told.” A heavy silence fell across the room.

          “How can you even think that we would do something like that?” Adolin asked eventually.

          “Because you’re a lighteyes and in my experience, lighteyes don’t particularly worry about who might get hurt so long as they get what they want.”

          “We’re digressing,” Dalinar broke in before Adolin could reply. “We were discussing what to tell the Parshendi.”

         “Tell them the truth,” Kaladin shrugged. “My abilities have only recently been discovered, I’m still training, and my intent….” he exhaled. “

“Kaladin protects people,” Syl piped up. “That’s what a Windrunner is _for._ ”

“So you’ll carry on as you have been doing,” Dalinar said slowly, “until we find out why the Radiants are returning?”

Kaladin seemed to relax a little. “I have no objections to that,” he said.

“I’ll have more questions,” Dalinar warned. “But for now, we ought to focus on the Parshendi: Adolin, you and- was it Eshonai?”

“Eshonai,” Adolin confirmed. “She seemed to know you.”

“Eshonai, you spoke of possible reparations, trade, what else?”

 “Access to the gemhearts, though there’s something you should know- Sh- a friend- thinks there’s a possibility that the Alethi have hunted them all close to extension.”

Dalinar frowned. “That _could_ be a problem,” he agreed. “We’ll talk about it later; in the meantime, we should consider who to take to the meeting tomorrow- “

      “Aladar.” Renarin shrunk back as everyone turned to look at him. “If only our people who go, Sadeas will try and use it to claim that we’re making an alliance with the enemy to take control of the other warcamps by force, or something similar,” he explained, twisting his box around in his hands and looking at the floor. “If you ask Aladar to come, you’re giving Sadeas’ camp a voice in the negotiations. Aladar is likely to at least consider listening; Sadeas and Ruthar won’t.”

      “It’s a good point,” Navani said, and Renarin blushed faintly.

       “I’ll send him a message,” Dalinar said, “And if he refuses to come, I’ll ask Hatham. He has a head for politics, and he’s a neutral factor in this mess- more’s the pity…of course, inviting another Highprince will mean telling them about you.” He looked up at Kaladin, who paled. “We’ll have to tell them all at some point sooner or later,”

   The spren had vanished. Kaladin looked alike he wanted to vanish as well. “I can’t hide this from them,” Dalinar said. “I’ve already declared my intention to re-found the Radiants, and you’ll have to have some sort of role in that capacity…”

       “I know, sir.”

Dalinar took pity on him. “Why don’t you go and reassure your men you’re all right. I assume, from the looks of concern they were giving you as they left, that they all knew?”

       “All of Bridge Four, yes.

Dalinar nodded. He wasn’t thrilled that the entirety of his Honour Guard had been keeping a secret from him, but their loyalty to their Captain was admirable. Spilling a commanding officer’s secrets to _his_ commanding officer could sometimes seem an attractive way of currying favour, although Dalinar made sure his generals discouraged such behaviour where possible. “Go then,” he said. “I’ll come and speak with you later, to discuss how we go forward.


	2. Trust and Theories

 

** Chapter Two: Trust and Theories.  **

Kaladin had never been so glad to leave a room in his life. Drehy, Skar, Sigzil, Moash, Peet, and Leyten were waiting just outside the door- they’d been on duty with Dalinar, the King, and the princeling respectively; Kaladin brushed past them to stand with Teft, who stood a little apart, a worried look on his face. “It’s fine,” he told him, then turned back to the rest of his men. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

         “You don’t look fine,” Moash scowled. “What did they say?”

          “We carry on as normal until something comes up. They’re going to tell the other Highprinces…” his felt his throat close over at the thought.

           “What? Why?” Skar looked aghast. “If we keep you secret, Kholin’s got an advantage over whatever assassins Sadeas or whoever chucks at him.”

            “But Kholin wants to refound the Radaints,” Sizgil pointed out. “Kaladin gives that plan legitimacy rather than it simply being the ramblings of a mad man.” Kaladin nodded dully.

            “He’s going to give me some sort of official roll in that capacity, yeah.”

             Moash’s gaze brightened. “Is he going to make you a brightlord?”

Storms, Kaladin hadn’t even thought of that. “If he tries, I’m leaving,” he said. “He’s going to come to the Barracks later and we’re going to talk about it.”

          “What about them Parsmen?” Teft asked. “The meeting with their shardbearer seemed to go okay…”

         “And there’s going to be another meeting tomorrow, hopefully we’ll find out why I freaked them out so badly they had to go blabbing to the princeling.”

 “I should think the glowing eyes amd near invincibility had something to do with it, sir.” Leyton said, grinning. “Look on the bright side of things, you don’t have to hide anymore. It’s one less thing to worry about.”

            One less thing. Kaladin looked at Moash. He still needed to move against Graves and the others, but that could wait until after the negotiations with the Parshendi had finished. He would have to send Moash out on patrol, make sure he was out of the way-

           “Kal?”

           “Hm?” Kaladin turned to Teft, realising he’d missed something. “Sorry?”

          Teft looked faintly amused. “I _said_ , you look dead on your feet. You should go and sleep before Dalinar comes this evening, you don’t want to doze off when the highprince is talking to you.” Sleep. It was a good idea. Kaladin had been too busy worrying about how to defend Dalinar against a host of potentially hostile Parshendi without coming across as hostile themselves to sleep much last night, and it was catching up with him.

            “Alright,” he said, “You six stay here- Skar, Leyton, you’re with the King when he comes out; Moash and Leyton stick with the Highprince- Leyton, no, Moash-“ Dalinar could defend himself if necessary “-if Highlady Navani heads somewhere without Dalinar or the King, I want you to stick with her. Sig, Peet, you’re with the princes, Sig, stay with Renarin if they split up. Teft-“

           “I’ll walk you back to the barracks and make sure you don’t get side tracked,” he finished. Kaladin smiled.

         “What would I do without you?”

          “Work yourself in to exhaustion and an early grave, probably,” Teft said cheerfully as they headed off. His voice dropped. “Honestly lad, how are you?”

   Kaladin shrugged. “It couldn’t stay a secret forever.” Still, he felt uneasy, like a part of himself had been exposed  and there was no way to hide it from view again, at least not without running. The King’s suggestion that he use surgebinding to kill all the Parshendi had sent chills running through him. And Dalinar hadn’t actually denied that he could find a way to make Kaladin do whatever he wanted…

        “Will you _stop?_ ” Syl demanded. “You’re going to be fine. You trust me, don’t you?”

       “Of course.”

         “Do you?” Syl asked again. “Do you really, honestly, trust me?”

Kaladin stopped walking. He stood in the sunlight and he thought, about nearly stepping over the edge of the honour chasm, about the deathspren he had seen after the Highstorm and the way Syl had chased them off. He thought about the decision to go back, to save Dalinar’s army, Syl human-sized next to him. Syl, warning him against the assassin in white. “Yes,” he whispered, starting to walk again. “I trust you completely.”

Syl smiled joyfully, and zipped around his head. “Everything is going to be alright!” she said gleefully, and for the first time in a long while, Kaladin let himself believe it. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t still scared, but what was done was done.

He just had to deal with it.

*** 

“A Radiant,” Elhokar muttered, as the door closed behind Captain Kaladin. Then: “Ha!” the King clicked his fingers, and pointed at Dalinar, smiling. “I knew I liked him, uncle,” he said. “A radiant…one who can fight the assassin off when he comes again…”

             Well, Elhokar was happy, that was something. Dalinar still needed to decide what to do with the information and in the meantime…

       “I’ll send messages to all the Highprinces telling them we have a temporary truce with the Parshendi,” Navani said. “And I’ll try and organise all the research our scholars did in to the Parshendi before Gavilar’s death,  and see if there’s anything that can help us. Jasnah—“

         She froze. Dalinar put a hand on her shoulder and she leant in to him.

        “Jasnah might have shared some of her research with Shallan,” Adolin said quietly. Navani stiffened, and his father shot him a look, but Adolin pressed forward. “When we had lunch, she told me- Jasnah thought the voidbringers were going to return, Shallan said something about the parshmen and-storms!” he swore, beginning to pace. “ _Storms-_ what if that’s why the Parshendi are so concerned about Kaladin? The Radiants and the Voidbrginers fought each other during the desolations- father, what if the Parshendi are the descendants of voidbringers or something?” His heart pounded wildly in his chest. “We need to speak to her,” he insisted, and Dalinar nodded.

         “Go,” he said, “Find out what Jasnah was thinking. Navani, talk to your scholars, see what you can come up with, any hints about their culture might be useful. “

        “And I, uncle?” Elhokar broke in. “What shall the King do, uncle?”

       “Let’s retire to my sitting room; we can discuss potential reparations. Khal, will you join us?” Dalinar said. The General bowed slightly in acknowledgement, and Elhokar nodded.

           “Very well,” he said.

They set to work

***

Shallan rushed outside, hair flying as she reached the bottom of the steps and came to a halt just in front of Adolin. “I’m so sorry, were we supposed to meet? It slipped my mind-“ a terrible thing to say to one’s betrothed, now she thought about it, and she dreaded to think what she looked like-

Adolin shook his head. “No need to worry about being un-prompt- it’s an _im-proptu_ visit.” He titled his head, smiling slightly, and Shallan cackled.

         “That was _dreadful.”_

“Yeah, but it made you laugh.” Adolin’s eyes crinkled. Shallan felt her heart flutter as she smiled in return.

        “It did,” she conceded. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

        “The talks with the Parshendi were this morning,” he said.

         “Are we celebrating?” Shallan lit up. If there was peace with the Parshendi, then she could get to her chasmfiend sooner rather than later-

         “Cautiously,” Adolin said. “Nothing was actually agreed, but the two parties are meeting again at noon tomorrow. Shallan…” Adolin bit his lip. “Something came up, when we were talking. “

        He looked nervous, like he was about to tell her something they wouldn’t like “Let me guess,” she said lightly, “They’ll only negotiate if the deal’s sealed with a wedding and seeing as how the King’s taken and his son’s a baby, you’re being married off?”

         “What?” Adolin bust out laughing. “No. Almighty, no. Not unless you’re  a Parshendi and haven’t told me.”

          “Do I look tall enough to be a Parshendi?”

          “Eh. I’m sure the Parshendi have midgits-ow!” he whined as Shallan wacked his arm with her sketchbook. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding very contrite at all. Shallan grinned.

“Seriously though, “Adolin continued, rubbing his arm. “Soemthing came up with- Shallan, you said Jasnah thought the voidbringers were coming back?”

          Shallan stared. “That’s an odd tangent,” she said softly. Beside her Pattern buzzed.

         “Yeah, I know.” Adolin said. “Look- Shall we go for a drink? Same place as last time?”

         “I’d like that,” Shallan said. “Is there a Highstorm scheduled?”

         Adolin chuckled. “No, No Highstorm.”

        “Damn..” Adolin opened the door of his carriage for her, and gave her a hand up, before swinging in himself and closing the door. As the carriage moved off, Shallan set her sketchbook to the side and attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers  “So,” she said, “What happened, exactly?”

         Adolin sighed. “I went to meet with the Parshendi,” he said slowly. “I borrowed Ren’s -my father’s old- Shardplate and pretended to be my father- as a precaution, you know? Anyway, the Parshendi…Bridgeboy is a Radiant,” he blurted out.

           Shallan sat stunned. The Bridgeman was a Radiant? What kind? What sort of spren would bond with such an arrogant, permanently bad tempered…”How?” she asked. This complicated things. If Dalinar knew about one radiant, should she tell him what she was? What Jasnah had been? But then, if her abilities became public knowledge, what would that mean for Veil? Best to keep quiet, for now, and see how this played out.

          “There’s this spren,”  Adolin said. “It- _she_ , she has a name, she’s called Syl…Kaladin swears oaths and she lets him surgebind.”

          “What type of spren?” Shallan asked, interested. She wondered if Kaladin had named her himself, like she had named Pattern.

    Adolin considered. “She looks like a windspren in a human shape,” he said. “And Kaladin said he was a Windrunner.”

  Pattern groaned. “This is _terrible,_ “ he buzzed. “Honor spren have no appreciation for the aesthetics of lies.”

              “Honour spren?”

         “What?”

            “Sorry,” Shallan blushed, looking at Adolin. She’d forgotten that she was the only person who could see or hear Pattern. “Just…something I heard, somewhere.”

Adolin didn’t seem convinced. She cast around for a different subject. “So, uh, how did you find out? What do the Parshendi have to do with it?”

        They saw him when he saved all our lives, the Parshendi I spoke to today, Eshonai, she raised it. We didn’t know…Bridgeboy never said anything. He doesn’t trust us. Something to do with every lighteyes he’s ever known being a self-servinv bastard, apparently, so there was that.

         Shallan flushed, remembering how she had demanded Kaladin’s shoes and wondering, for the first time, how she had looked to him. It wasn’t a flattering image.

        “The Parshendi are scared of him,” Adolin continued. “Apparently, some of them don’t think if peace is possible with him around. We were wondering why they might be so worried, and then I remembered what you said the other day…”

         “Storms.” Shallan connected the dots. “Jasnah thought the parshmen were voidbringers, that something would happen to change them all in to monsters. Do you think the Parshendi are the thing? They’re worried about Kaladin because a Knight Radiant could upset their plans?”

         “Eshonai wouldn’t give me a straight answer about Gavilar’s death, all she said was that he gave them cause for alarm.” Adolin mused. “What if- Shallan!” he sat up straighter. “Did Jasnah ever say to you anything about her father having visions?”

    “Well, he could certainly see. And I suppose a unified Alethkar was a vision…visions like your father is having?”

    “Yes.”

   “No,” Shallan said, “I don’t think so, why?”

    Adolin’s face fell. “Just a thought. If  Gavilar had similar visions before he died…if they were brought about by following the codes or something, I don’t know, but…”

    “Maybe Gavilar wanted to refound the Radiants?” Shallan asked. “Is that what you’re thinking? If he was trying to bring about a return to old ideals, and the Parshendi found out…”

   “They said they’d explain,” Adolin said, looking worried. “We’ll just have to wait to see what that explanation is.”


	3. Plans for the Future

The Council was waiting for her when Eshonai reached Nurak, a spring in her step that had been absent for a long time. She attuned to the rhythm of accomplishment, and smiled. “The Alethi are sincere in their desire for peace,” she told them.

         “Then what’s been decided?” Davim asked

           “Nothing, yet. Kholin suggested a meeting between us and his own advisors to take place at noon tomorrow, do discuss in more detail, but he _does_ wish a discussion.”

           “A discussion of what?” Abronai frowned.

         “Reparations. Trade. They wish for access to the gemhearts, and require an explaination for Gavilar’s death.” Eshonai explained.

         “What of the surgebinder?” Chivi wanted to know.

        “Kholin will tell us more tomorrow.” She didn’t raise her theory that the Alethi hadn’t known, that came from instinct, nothing more. The Council seemed dissatisfied, and her excitement faded a little.

       “You are a fool,” Venli spoke from the side.  Eshonai turned and frowned at her sister “The Alethi do not desire peace. They want to lure our leaders out in to the open so they can have their surgebinder slaughter them-“

      “The Council will have an honour guard to protect them, just as their king would,” Eshonai argued. “And there is something else,” she added. “The assassin in white made an attempt on their King’s life the same night our messenger spoke to them. But-“ she raised her hand to forestall the panic that she could see setting in- “ Kholin has accepted that we were not responsible, but if we have knowledge of the assassin, we can use that as a bargaining chip.”

       “We don’t need to bargain!” Venli cried. “We have storm form-“

      “Storm form is a form of our gods,” Eshonai argued. “If we use it, why did we bother to fight Kholin in the first place? All those lives, lost for nothing. These talks are going to work, I can feel it!”

The Council exchanged glances. “Alright,” Abronai said slowly. “What else can we offer them?”

***   

There wasn’t a great deal of information about the Parshendi culture to go through. Navani wished she could be surprised, but the Parshendi had been Gavilar’s project and he hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in anthropology.

           Her daughter had probably known more, but Navani wouldn’t know. As Adolin said, Brightness Davar might…

            She would have to talk to her. She would talk to her. Soon, maybe. Just…

_It hurts that Jasnah found someone to share her research with and it wasn’t me._

             She pushed her pile of papers to the side and took a sip of her wine. Deliberately pushing her daughter to the back of her mind, she turned her attention to the other matter at hand- the young bridgeman who was, in fact, a Radiant.

                When Dalinar had told her he intended to put his safety and the safety of the rest of her family in the hands of a group of recently-freed bridge slaves, she hadn’t been particularly surprised. Dalinar always had had a knack for picking up strays, and on the whole they turned out to be incredibly useful ones. Still, she had worried about the boy he made Captain: it was a lot to ask of a boy barely older than Renarin and fresh out of hell. Asking him to be the face of Dalinar’s new Radiants for all Alethkar to see when he hadn’t seemed particularly happy that _Dalinar_ knew was asking even more. If this wasn’t managed carefully, it could all blow up in their faces.

       She finished her wine and stood up, walking in the direction of Dalinar’s sitting room. She entered without knocking, and stilled when she found not only Dalinar and General Khal, but Highprince Sebarial, who sat back in and his chair smiled when he saw her. “Good evening, your highness.”

         Navani raised an enquiring eyebrow at Dalinar, who shrugged helplessly. “I gathered there was to be a party tomorrow, I wanted to make sure I was invited,” Sebarial explained. “But now the details have been settled, I’ll not keep you lovebirds apart. Dalinar.” He heaved himself out of his chair and moved stiffly towards the door. Navani stood aside to let him pass, then closed the door behind him.

         “What happened?”

         “He gathered there was the potential for trade with the Parshendi,” Dalinar said drily, “and has the impression there’s some sort of treasure worth finding near the centre of the Shattered Plains, an expedition which would benefit from peace. He left his warcamp almost as soon as he got the message about peace talks.”

        “So he’s coming to the negotiations tomorrow?” Navani asked.

         “It seems so.”

          “And Aladar?”

          “Declined,” Khal said gruffly

  “Well, we have our neutral Highprince at any rate,” Navani said. “Did you tell him about the Captain?”

       Dalinar sighed. “No. I haven’t spoken to Kaladin again yet, and it seems only right I should do that before I tell anyone else.”

         “Khal, would you excuse us?”

The general stood up and bowed, making a swift and silent exit. Navani walked over to Dalinar and seated herself gracefully on his lap. Dalinar smiled and wrapped an arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulders.

    “Have you found anything useful?” he asked.

      “Not particiarly,” Navani shrugged. “My scholars are still going through bits and pieces, but strangely enough Gavilar wasn’t overly invested in finding out the nuances of the Parshendi culture.”

Dalinar stiffened for a moment like he always did when the subject of Gavilar was raised between them. She’d have to train him out of that, though in a peculiar way she was glad that one of them had loved Gavilar enough to feel guilty. It would have felt indecent if neither of them had cared.

        “It’s a shame,” Dalinar said, “But it can’t be helped.” He closed his eyes and nuzzled the top of Navani’s head. “Storms but it’s been a long day.”

         “It’s not over yet,” Navani reminded him.

          “I know.”

           “Have you decided what to do?”

Dalinar considered. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I believe I have.”

Navani leant up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And?” she asked, “Tell me.”


End file.
